Page 165 of Tangled with the Tight End

“It’s strange,” I say to no one in particular. “I’m used to running and being physical without much thought. Now I feel like I have to tell my ankle to remember how to walk.”

“That’s totally normal,” our physical therapist tells me. “It passes pretty quickly, but these first few steps are always an adjustment. We’ll build it up over time. Believe it or not, if all goes well, you’ll be back to some light running in a month.”

After a short time with the physical therapist, they send me home. No workout. No meetings. Just my new boot and an order to return tomorrow for my workout, rehab and meetings. I’m still on crutches for another week or so.

On the drive home, Winona suggests we get ice cream to celebrate.

“It’s only eight thirty in the morning,” I remind her.

She looks at me like I’m the crazy one and says, “I mean, I didn’t know ice cream had a time of day that was considered unacceptable, but … okay. Donuts, then?”

“Sounds good,” I agree.

She drives us to Baker From Another Mother.

On the way, I tell her, “It’s going to get busy for a while. Will you hang in through this part of my season?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

We grab donuts and everyone in the bakery congratulates me on getting the cast off. Then Winona drops me off at my house so she can go to see Old Man Calhoun.

Once I’m inside, I call my parents to update them on what happened at my appointment.

Dad answers his cell on the first ring. “Declan.”

“Hey, Dad. Just got back from my cast removal.”

“And?”

“Everything’s going well. They put a boot on. Started me walking.”

“Good. Good.” He pauses and then says, “Your mom’s here. I’m putting you on speaker.”

I fill her in on what I just told my dad.

I can hear her smile through the phone. “Oh, that’s such good news, Declan.”

“What’s the timeline on your return?” Dad asks.

“They can’t be definitive, but they think I’ll be running in a month. I’ll be in the boot four to five weeks. They’re looking at five to be safe.”

“Do you want a second opinion? I could send someone up there,” Dad offers.

“I trust this team.”

“Okay.”

“I might make it back to practice toward the end of December, and I could even play the last game of the season, but it’s all contingent on my healing and rehab.”

“Do your part.”

“I always do.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that, but I know he knows I give one hundred and ten percent to everything.

“I was going to call you today, Declan,” Mom says. “I’m making Thanksgiving plans. We’d love to have you join us this year since you’re not playing.”

I hadn’t given Thanksgiving much thought, but now that they’re bringing it up, I want to spend it with Winona.